


The Posthobbit Always Knocks Twice

by ElderberryWine



Category: the lord of the rings
Genre: M/M, crackfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-14
Updated: 2010-11-14
Packaged: 2017-10-13 04:58:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/133207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElderberryWine/pseuds/ElderberryWine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A very different sort of case knocks on Frodo Baggins' door, and he finds himself wandering down strange trails indeed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Posthobbit Always Knocks Twice

**Author's Note:**

> The most recent challenge on Waymeet was to pick a certain genre of writing, and given five prompts, build a tale around them. I picked hard-boiled and had waaaaaay too much fun with this story.
> 
> Are you ready for some hard-boiled hobbit noir? Well, of course you are! Venture into this crackfic!extreme AU at your own risk, where familiar characters are wildly OOC, Americanisms abound, and there is even a shout-out to one of my favorite pieces of American lit.
> 
> Oh, and my prompts? Outhouse, coil, plunder, hollow, and meeting. To be found in that order. And much like the original, the title has nothing whatsoever to do with the story. ;D

I glared at the hobbit in my smial with undisguised annoyance. I distinctly remembered instructing Lobelia that I was not to be disturbed this rainy afternoon. A rare dwarvish manuscript had happened to fall into my hands the previous day, and that, along with a nearly full bottle of Brandy Hall’s finest, promised to make it an enjoyable afternoon, to say the least.

And yet there he was, dripping pathetically on my parlor rug, and wringing his jacket ends as if that might actually accomplish something. “I believe I left instructions?” I growled, doing my best to ignore the creature as I strode past him in my front parlor. I had to admit that I did feel a slight twinge of guilt, as he seemed rather young, and quite handsome as well in a golden, well-fed sort of way.

“Maybe you did, and maybe you didn’t,” Lobelia, my secretary of far more years than she or I would care to admit to, shot back, her extravagantly furred feet firmly planted on her desk, and a nail file busily at work in her hands. “But I might just mention that they’ve been by twice for the rent now, and it wouldn’t hurt to listen to what the lad has to say.”

I gave a grunt that could mean just about anything, as I tried to decide exactly what it should mean. “I thought as much,” Lobelia gave a triumphant smirk, deciding the matter for me. “He’ll see you now,” she nodded to the lad, never stopping her work with the file. I shook my head, but opened the door to my study, and waved the young hobbit inside.

I noticed him darting a quick glance about the room, his eyes resting especially on the walls of carelessly stowed leather bound books. That caused me to consciously inch him up a notch or two on my personal scale of approval. Few hobbits, much less the younger ones, had any use for that sort of thing. I threw myself in the one comfortable chair in the room, and motioned my visitor to the bench on the other side of the room. “Drink?” I grunted, sliding open a drawer in the nearby desk, and pulling out the bottle I planned on enjoying one way or the other.

“I wouldn’t mind,” he surprised me by accepting, and I shot him another glance. Undoubtedly young, but a cool customer nevertheless. I half-filled a glass for him, and poured a stiff one for myself, and we both leaned back and lost ourselves for a few moments in appreciation of Brandy Hall’s peerless product.

“I suspect you did not knock on my door hoping solely for a drink this afternoon,” I suddenly broke the rather comfortable silence, “so what exactly caused you to make your way out in the rain this soggy day?”

“Ah, well, you see,” and he hereby interrupted himself by draining the glass quite thoroughly. “ ‘Tis a matter of my brothers,” he announced at last, setting the glass down on the floor near his feet, but not without a last longing glance at the bottle which I studiously ignored. “My father, he died a few months back,” he continued, with a slight shrug. “He’d always told me that the smial’d be mine, likewise a bit of land that’s been in the family for years. I’ve two brothers, but they’ve been living up north since I was a fauntling.”

“And your mother?” I quietly interrupted him. It was always best to get all the ponies lined up from the start.

“Long since dead,” my visitor proclaimed softly. “I’ve three sisters, likewise, but they don’t enter into the matter.”

“Of course not. Go on, then.”

“Well, when we gathered in the old solicitor’s room in Hobbiton to hear the will read, you could have knocked me over with a feather. First of all, the fact of him having a will was amazement enough, because I could of sworn he never knew how to read nor write. And secondly, the fact that he gave everything all over to Hamson and Halfred was purely beyond belief. Far as I know, they hadn’t passed a word to each other since well on ten years past.”

“Was the will dated?” I couldn’t help but ask. This was clearly shaping up to be something past the Hobbiton norm.

“Aye, that’s the mystery of it all. There was a will dated ten years back left with the solicitor, that spelled out matters just he’d always told me. But there was also a later version dated only a month before his death. Yet I’d swear by the Lady that he hadn’t been to the solicitor in years.”

“Did the solicitor remember the circumstances of him changing the will?”

“No. I did ask; I was that flummoxed, but it turns out that the solicitor was on a visit to his mother down Bywater way at the time, and his assistant took care of the matter.”

“And what does the assistant remember?”

“He left his employ a month ago. Old Bartleby has no idea where he’s gotten off to.”

“Indeed.” I settled back in my chair and took another thoughtful sip. “What were your brothers’ reactions to all of this?”

“They acted like it was all a shock, t’be sure, but I can’t say as I don’t have my doubts. Hamson was alus a slippery one.”

 

“Well, then,” I straightened up when the stream of information seemed to have come to an end. “I can’t say as I’m cheap, Mr. . . ?” and glanced at my visitor inquiringly.

“Samwise Gamgee,” he said promptly, standing up and offering me his hand. “I’m all at sixes and sevens, or I’d have mentioned that bit of it far sooner.”

“And a pleasure indeed,” I assured him, returning his firm shake. “But as I was saying, the fee is twenty crowns a day plus expenses. It could go up, too, if matters turn out to be edgy. I’m far too fond of my hide to risk it for anything less.”

“I don’t wonder at that,” he murmured, and I couldn’t help but give him a sharp glance. But his round face was the picture of innocence, as he then smiled and agreed. “Very well. I can afford that for at least a week or so. When should I check back with you?”

“Stop by the day after next, say afternoon, and we’ll see where we are at.”

With another bow, and another hearty handshake, he agreed and departed, and left me staring at the fire with a puzzled frown.

 

&&&&&

 

I paid a visit to the solicitor the next morning. The rain had stopped, but the air was crisp and cool, and the fallen leaves were damp underfoot as I walked to Hobbiton. Fall was most definitely here.

Bartleby was quite a fixture in town. There were only three solicitors, all told, and he had definitely been around the longest. I had had few dealings with him, though, since he usually stuck with the old money crowd. I wasn’t sure if he’d know who I was.

The look on his face however, when I was shown into his office, told me I was wrong on that score. He did know who I was, and what’s more, he didn’t like any part of it. “If you’re here to ask about any of my clients, you know very well that I can not give out confidential information, Mr. Baggins,” he sniffed, giving me a dyspeptic glare.

“Well, no, not exactly,” I responded, mentally crossing out several questions that I had planned to ask. Since I wasn’t being offered a seat, it was pretty clear to me that my time here was going to be short, so I asked the one question that had bothered me the most. “It’s not anything about any of your clients. It’s your assistant. He owes me for a drink. Mind telling me where he went off to?”

“ Young Hammet? Back to Michel Delving, I suppose. I can’t bothered to keep track of him.”

“You won’t be willing to give me his address, would you?”

“I’d prefer not to,” Old Bartleby calmly replied, and our meeting was at an end.

 

&&&&&

 

It was time to bring in one of my associates, a fellow whose face wasn’t nearly as recognizable in these parts as mine, I must modestly admit, was. Ted Sandyman would do just about anything to be well-supplied with booze, and I took great care to keep him in that condition. So when I asked him to take a trip to Michel Delving and snoot around to see what he could dig up on this Hammet, he knew exactly the type of information I was looking for. “No problem, Boss,” he gave a wide grin, as I stood him a drink at the Green Dragon. “It’s always good to get out of town.”

“See if you can make it back by tomorrow morning,” I stood up, laying down coin for the both of us on the oak counter. “Gamgee will be coming by in the afternoon, and I’d like to have something to show for our efforts.”

“On it right now,” he replied simply, following me out the door. It’s handy not to have any personal commitments, I suppose.

As for myself, I spent my afternoon poring over some books on the history of Bag End and its surroundings that my long departed cousin, Bilbo Baggins, had left behind when he took off for parts unknown. Gamgee had left his address as Number Three Bagshot Row, right around the corner from me. I knew that ramshackle farm by sight. Curious that it had suddenly become so valuable.

 

&&&&&

 

Sandyman was at my front door early the next morning. Lobelia gave a loud sniff as she answered the door, which provoked a wide grin from him. “Hiya, toots,” he gave her a leer and a sly pinch. The swat she gave him in return was not entirely convincing, not to mention her quickly hidden smirk, and I mentally filed that information away. Lobelia was still, after all this time, capable of surprising me.

“Come in then and let’s see what you’ve got,” I motioned him in the study, while Lobelia bent over to pick up some files that were on the floor, in the most obvious of ways.

“That lass is a bit of all right,” he exclaimed with a wink as I shut the door behind him.

“I’ll have to take your word on the matter,” I plopped myself into my chair and swung my feet up on a cushion. “So what’s the word from Michel Delving?”

“Nothin’ much doin’ there, Boss,” he informed me, making himself comfortable on the settle. “Kid’s clean as a whistle. He’s some sort of nephew to Old Bartleby, and occasionally pops by to make himself useful. By all accounts, though, he lives in terror of the old coot, and would never try to run anything fishy past him. Bartleby seems to dangle some sort of inheritance in front of him, and word is that Hammet would never put that at risk.”

“Hmmph,” I grunted. “Sounds like a dead end, there, then.”

“Mayhap. But there was an interesting tidbit I overheard at the inn, while I was there. Just having a drop before I headed back,” he hastily added, seeming my expression.

I grunted noncommittally.

“Seems young Gamgee and his da had had it out a few months back. Some of the old’uns in the inn were talkin’ about it, and couldn’t remember the last time they’d seen Old Hamfast quite so riled up.”

I gazed thoughtfully out the round window, and reached for the pipe in my jacket pocket. “Interesting. How did Hamfast Gamgee die, anyway?”

“Oh, nothing mysterious about that. His cough had been bothering him for some time, and Doc Archer alus said it was just a matter of when. The Doc was there when it happened, too, and I remember him saying as how Samwise and his sisters all seemed right cut up about it. The brothers arrived from North Farthing a day or two later.”

“They wouldn’t still happen to be around, would they?”

“No, went back up north as soon as the will was read.”

“So. If they now own Number Three, they haven’t been in any hurry to displace the younger Gamgees. I wonder what concerns Samwise so about the issue of ownership. Tell me, Sandyman, who would know more about this curious family?”

“The only hobbit that was ever close to Hamfast was Tolman Cotton, as far as I know. The two of them had been tight as ticks for years. Matter of fact, the youngest Gamgee lass married one of the Cotton lads a few years back. But as for Samwise, he’s always been a bit of a loner.”

“The Cottons.” I blew a smoke ring into the air and stared sightlessly at it. Something I’d read in that old book of Bilbo’s was tugging at my sleeve but I couldn’t quite place it. “Not too bad, Sandyman.” Reaching in my pocket, I tugged out a small bag I had previously prepared, in case he provided something useful. Seems as though he had. “Spend some time in the Green Dragon. Keep your ears open. In a burg this small, things don’t stay hidden for too long. I’m especially interested in anything to do with Cottons or Gamgees.”

“Right, Boss. I’ll be a fly on the wall.” He touched his hand to his forehead and left the study. There was a simpering giggle from Lobelia, followed by a muffle squeal, which I chose to ignore. There are some things regarding which the less I knew the happier I was, and that was one of them.

 

&&&&&

 

Oddly enough, Gamgee didn’t show up come afternoon. In my experience, the client usually shows up whether you want him to or not. But of course, Gamgee hadn’t coughed up any change yet, so perhaps he was having non-buyers’ remorse. I stared out the window at the rain, which had once again started to come down. Somehow, though, I didn’t think so.

 

&&&&&

 

There was a sharp rap on the door early evening, just as Lobelia was starting to tidy up her desk to leave, and a very different Sandyman stumbled into the smial. “Ted! By the Lady!” Lobelia shrieked with a startled gasp, and I can’t say I blamed her at all, for my reaction was exactly the same. Sandyman stood before us, from head to grubby toe in muck, and the reek was indescribable.

“Not looking my best, I know, but wait ‘til you hear what I found out,” he crowed triumphantly.

“Baggins can tell me all about it tomorrow,” Lobelia pronounced decisively, with a look of strong distaste. “I’m off the clock.”

“Yes. Well, there’s nothing I want to hear from you until you’ve cleaned off the, what the devil is that, anyway?” I muttered, delicately shoving him back out into the rainy night. “Go around to the kitchen door, you know where it is, and I’ll come around with some towels and a pail of water.”

Some fifteen minutes later, it was possible to allow him to enter at least the kitchen. I made us both a strong pot of coffee, and awaited the explanation, which wasn’t all that long in coming.

“There I was at the Green Dragon, keeping an eye out,” Sandyman began, taking a deep sip from his mug. “I’d been there awhile, when I felt the call of nature. So I made my way to the privy, lantern in hand, as it was dark as could be and raining like there was no tomorrow. I was sitting there a bit, contemplating nature as it were, when I heard a voice I recognized. Tolman Cotton, and it seemed as though he was speaking to his son, Tom. Well, I finished up business as quick as a wink, and doused the lantern. Sounded as if they were a-comin’ up the path to the inn, and as far as I could tell, hadn’t seen my light. I climbed up onto the privy seat, and tried to peek out through the crack between the roof and the wall. The night was that dark, though, but I found I could hear them fine.”

“ ‘So why didn’t you ever tell me this before?’ Tom was a-askin’ and I heard his da answer sharp, ‘Because there was no need to, you young scamp. But now that that blasted young Gamgee has caught wind of it, there are decisions to be made, and I need you to know what’s a-goin’ on. I just don’t know why he can’t be lettin’ things go as they are. Naught but trouble ahead, no doubt about it. Bilbo Baggins was a reckless fool, no matter what Hamfast thought. Bringin’ nothing but trouble to us all, t’be sure.’ But their voices started to fade, and as I was a-tryin’ to hear more, seemingly I pushed against the privy a bit too hard.”

“Oh, no, you didn’t!” I couldn’t help but burst into laughter.

“Aye, that I did,” he answered with a sheepish grin. “The whole outhouse came down around my ears, and I hope I may never find myself in such a predicament ever again. I lit out of there like there were wolves at my heels, and I certainly hope no one remembers who went to the privy last.”

“Very good, then, you’ve certainly earned your pay tonight. Go home and take a long bath, and stop by tomorrow afternoon. This is definitely becoming complicated, and I think I need to sleep on it tonight.”

 

&&&&&

 

The following morning broke fresh and clear, although with my bleared vision, and my mouth that tasted as if several bats had died in it, that was not immediately apparent. I had spent the evening perusing some of Bilbo’s old books, and the rest of the brandy had somehow disappeared in the process. However a hearty breakfast, one of Lobelia’s better talents, had set me up right, and I stepped outside to enjoy a morning pipe. No sooner than I had made my way out of sight of Bag End, however, but there was a rustle in the leaves, and Samwise Gamgee suddenly fell into step with me.

“Well, I was wondering when you’d show up again,” I muttered, trying my best to hide my uneasiness with a client who slid quite so noiselessly into place as he did. “Also wondering if this still mattered to you or not.”

“More than you know,” he answered silkily, matching me pace for pace and drawing out his pipe as well.

“Since I’ve already gone to some expense for you, I’m glad to hear that,” I replied gruffly, attempting to regain control of the situation. “I’m sure Lobelia has your bill ready.”

“No doubt, and I don’t mind, as I told you before, paying it,” he waved the matter off. “But I’m more interested in what information you have for me.”

Well, now, that was a stumper, since it was more about him than any of the other characters. “Tell me, what do you know about Tolman and Tom Cotton, and any connection they might have had with Bilbo Baggins?” I stalled, trying to fit the pieces together.

“Tolman Cotton? A busybody of the first order,” he frowned, staring straight ahead and giving a fierce puff on his pipe. “I might of known he’d be mixed up in this. There’s no real harm in Tom, but he’ll do whatever his da wants, no mistake. Why did you ask that? What have you heard?”

For a fleeting moment, I felt a twinge of fear run through me, and regretted having wandered so far from the smial. Sam’s handsome face was stiff with anger, and I wasn’t at all sure who it was directed to. All I knew was that I fervently hoped it was not me.

He must have sensed my thoughts, though, for a corner of his mouth suddenly quirked up, and he reached out and briefly clasped my elbow in his hand. “No worries, Mr. Baggins,” he murmured, obviously amused. “It ain’t you as I’m mad at.”

“That’s certainly a relief,” I responded in my driest possible voice, but the strength of that brief grip had shook me, and it was only with the greatest of difficulty that I managed to keep my voice steady. By now, I wasn’t sure if Gamgee was my client or my problem, and somehow it seemed not impossible that he should be both. “What I can tell you is that I had Bartleby’s assistant checked out, and there’s nothing there. He’s his nephew, and in line for a pile of coin when the old hobbit kicks off, so there’s no way he was free-lancing. The new will was no surprise to Bartleby, that’s for sure, so I assumed he was setting himself up to be able to claim ignorance. Which is a curious fact in itself, don’t you think.”

“Aye, it is at that,” and Gamgee’s face darkened once again. We strode along in silence a little longer, myself having no idea where we were heading, when Gamgee abruptly stopped, tapping his pipe out against a tree trunk, and stared at me intently.

“What would you do, Baggins, if a buried treasure suddenly fell into your lap? Is there anything you’d buy? Anyone you’d give it to? Or would you just tuck it away for later? Or mayhap it just wouldn’t mean that much to you.”

“If you ever saw my pile of bills, you’d know it would never be the last,” I responded dryly, giving him a curious look. “That’s an odd question to ask, Gamgee. Perhaps there’s something else about this whole affair you want to tell me.”

But whatever Gamgee might have said was immediately lost, as a cart rumbled by us on the dirt road along which we were walking. Gamgee let loose a fierce explicative and instantly turned back to follow the cart without another word to me. The hobbit at the reins had been entirely unknown to me, but I had noticed a large coil of rope at the back of the shabby wagon.

 

&&&&&

 

I had wandered back to my smial, not knowing what else to do or where else to go. I presumed I still had a client, but there didn’t really seem to be anything to investigate. So I made my way to the study in a foul mood, refusing to answer any of Lobelia’s pointed questions, and pulled open my desk drawer. Fortunately, I had one bottle left, so I poured myself a drink and nursed it as I gazed at the cold fireplace and its unlit fire. The room was cold, most likely, but I was taking care to warm myself in a more personal manner, and paid it no mind.

I had come to no conclusion other than Hobbiton was a sorry place indeed, and there was no good reason for me not to just take to my heels and leave its dust far behind me, when there was a sharp rap at the study window, and I saw Sandyman, motioning me with excitement.

“You’ll never credit it, Boss!” he cackled eagerly as I opened the window. “It’s a regular slugfest a-goin’ on down at Number Three! I wondered why you told me to look out for the Gamgees and Cottons, and well, I don’t know nothing about the Cottons, but the Gamgees are a-tearin’ into each other something fierce! Come right quick, now, or we’ll both miss the whole thing!”

There was something contagious about Sandyman’s excitement, or maybe it was just the same instinct that always draws a crowd to a dogfight, but I was instantly at his heels, and we made our way to Number Three. The sound of breaking crockery, not to mention raised male voices, was unmistakable as we approached, so it seemed as though we had not missed the final outcome. “Watch that side of the smial,” I hissed at him, “and I’ll cover this one. If anyone leaves, I want to know who, and where they go.” He gave an excited nod, and disappeared into the hedge on the far side of the smial. I hid myself in the pines, on the road side of the property, and tried my best to make out some of the words.

Most of it, despite the volume at which it was being delivered, was undecipherable. Samwise’s brother’s dialect (for I assumed it was him) was broad North Farthing, and I could only catch a word here or there. Leaving something well enough alone seemed to be the general theme, though, and Samwise seemed to be having none of it. “You know full well I don’t want all o’it,” I heard him snarl. “You can have yours and do as you like w’it. But I will not be cheated out of what’s my fair share, no matter what monsters you and the rest of this sorry lot of old scared hobbits have dreamed up. You’re all a passel of fools, and I want nothing more to do with any of you!”

It was then the door of Number Three flew open, and Samwise Gamgee came storming out, his eyes on fire. And it was then I heard a rustle in the leaves behind me, and before I could turn around, felt my head explode with pain as something hit me and my world went instantly black.

 

&&&&&

 

I started swimming out of the blackness into which I had been unceremoniously dumped to the tune of an aching head and a pungent odor. “See?” I heard Lobelia’s familiar voice crow. “Works every time.”

“What the. . . , stars above, Lobelia, what is that foul stench?” I managed to choke out, trying to jerk my head away and sit up at the same time, a feat that was clearly beyond me for the time being. As my blurry vision started to clear, I realized that I was lying on my settle back in my study, and Lobelia, with a triumphant expression and a cloth drenched in vinegar in her hand, was kneeling at my side. Sandyman was standing behind her, looking on with intent interest, but there was someone else there, standing quietly back against the wall. Samwise Gamgee.

I gave it a second go, and got up to a sitting position this time, when I realized the cause of my predicament. My head had begun to throb like a badly handled sackbut, and upon a cautious examination, I could feel a lump the size of a goose egg right behind my left ear.

“Someone coshed you good, Boss,” Sandyman unnecessarily informed me with a grin, but Gamgee apparently had a better handle on the facts. “Tom Cotton,” he informed me tersely. “I could tell by his size and the direction he ran.”

“Interesting,” I mumbled, giving him a searching look, but his return gaze at me was shuttered and uninformative. “Lobelia, some tea might help, if you don’t mind. And Sandyman, the Green Dragon might be the best place to find out more right about now.” It really wasn’t, but at least it would keep him out of the way for a good while, and I’d know where to find him if I needed him.

“Aye, Boss, right on it,” he happily informed me, and was instantly gone. Lobelia clucked about for just a bit longer, but once she had provided the tea, she took off for the night as well. There was a muffled squeal outside as she left, so I assumed Sandyman would have company during his lonely vigil at the inn. That left me and the silent Gamgee.

“There was something you were going to tell me the other day,” I casually mentioned, as I poured a liberal slug from the bottle in my drawer into my tea and wordlessly offered him the bottle. He took it, without benefit of the tea, and poured himself a drink. Sitting down in my favorite chair, he took a long sip, keeping his eyes on me all the while.

“How tight were you and old Bilbo anyways?” he abruptly asked.

My eyes flew open at that question. “Does he have anything to do with all of this?” I asked carefully. The wily old hobbit had had his thumb in plenty about Hobbiton, and somehow I found that I was not that surprised to hear his name come up.

“Did he ever speak of the dragon’s gold he’d brought home after that time he left?” Gamgee answered my question with another one, continuing to study me carefully. The effect was oddly unnerving.

“Oh, well, that was all before my time, you know. He had some gold about, but not inordinate amounts, and he always seemed to find it amusing that so many thought he had pots of it about the smial. Certainly, I never saw it.”

“Well there might have been some gold coin, but that ain’t the main part of it.” Gamgee’s voice had darkened and I felt a strange sense of foreboding that I could not answer for at all. “Dragon’s plunder, that’s what he brought back. Jewels as big as your fist, and rings and necklaces and goblets, all made by dwarves. Stolen by the dragon, and then stolen by him.”

“That’s ridiculous,” I couldn’t help but respond sharply. “Old goodwives’ tales. Fools’ gold.”

“Not of a bit of it. I’ve seen it.”

“What?” I sat straight up in shock, the ache in my head totally forgotten. “How can that be?”

“Long time ago. I was only a kid, but you bet I’ve never forgotten it. It was right about the time you got here, right before as a matter of fact. I’ve always wondered if he’d ever said anything to you about it.”

“I’d have remembered, I’m positive,” I breathed, sitting up even straighter. “And if your dad and Bilbo were all that close, how come I don’t know you?”

He gave a shrug, but a quick smile caused his eyes to glint gold for a moment. “Been gone for awhile, and I didn’t leave on the best of terms.”

“I heard you and your dad got into some kind of row not long back,” I cautiously mentioned, and his face suddenly grew dark.

“Aye, I’ll bet that got around. Like as not now you think I’d a hand in his kicking off.”

“No, I don’t know that at all. Did it have anything to do with all of this though?”

He gave a sigh then, and stared down morosely at his drink. “I shouldn’t have brought it up. I knew he was doing poorly, and it always set him off so. If I had it to do again, I’d have kept my damned mouth shut. It just never seemed right to me though, to let it lie buried in the hollow.” He glanced back up at me and seemed to come to a conclusion. “Have time for a long story, Baggins?”

“Nowhere else I’d rather be,” I replied easily, settling back against the pillow with my spiked mug of tea. And that was no lie.

“Well, it seems as though Bilbo Baggins came back from his journey into the wild lands beyond the Shire with more loot than he wanted anyone to know.” Gamgee had settled back into the chair and was sightlessly running a finger around the rim of his glass. Staring into the flames of the study fire, he went on. “He must have tucked it away in Bag End, but after awhile, it apparently started to prey on his mind. And just about the time you showed up, I guess he decided that wasn’t the best place to be keeping it. So he called my dad and Tolman Cotton together, and told them it must be buried away, because it was dragon’s plunder and cursed, and would bring nothing but sorrow to anyone who would ever use it. My older brothers were still home then, so they came to help, and Tom and Jolly Cotton likewise. I was just a little one at the time, but I couldn’t resist, and sneaked out behind them to the old apple orchard in the hollow between Baggins and Gamgee land. They didn’t know then I was there, I guess. They opened up the chest and all took a last look, and that was when I saw it. Great polished stones, ruby red and the deepest blue. Wonderfully wrought silver goblets, and golden rings and bracelets, all marvelously made. And then the chest was closed and buried deep, and I can’t really remember which tree it was buried under.”

“I never knew any of this,” I breathed, lost in amazement at his tale.

“I’ve always suspected that your coming had something to do with the timing of the whole thing,” he replied quietly, giving me a shrewd look. “Well, it wasn’t much longer after that that I took off, but that sight has always been in my mind. So the last time I was home, I fell into an argument with my father over it, among other things. I’d always thought Bilbo’s tales of a curse on his treasure were rubbish and a ploy just to keep the rest of us out of it. But he’s been gone for awhile now, and doesn’t seem likely to be needing it any more, and I can’t see why it shouldn’t be doing the rest of us a bit of good. I’d never mean to take more than my share, but it ought to be shared out between us Gamgees and Cottons, fair’s fair. And with you too, for that matter. You’re Bilbo’s only heir, ain’t you?”

“As far as I know,” I couldn’t help but feel a little discomfited by this question. “So what else were you and your father arguing about?”

He looked quickly up at me as I asked that, and his green eyes caught a golden spark in the firelight. “There are many matters on which we’ve never seen eye to eye.”

“Such as?” I couldn’t help but pursue the point.

“Kept trying to marry me off to the Cotton lass,” he said slowly, after a moment’s silence. “One Gamgee-Cotton pair wasn’t enough, seemingly. Thought there should be another, likewise.”

“And you?”

“Not my type. Nothing against Rosie, mind you, she’s a fine enough lass. But not my type.”

I nearly asked him what his type was. But it was getting late, and instead, I blurted out, “There’s a spare bedroom in the back, you know. In case you’ve nowhere else to go.”

The smile that slowly crept across his face then was breathtakingly warm and intimate. “So happens I don’t,” he said softly. “It’s really very good of you to offer.”

“Yes, well,” I wobbled to my feet, involuntarily clutching my head with a wince. “It’s down the hall to the left, at the end. Let me know if you need anything.”

I almost thought he was going to come closer, but then he gave a rueful chuckle and murmured, “That head of yours is not going to feel pretty tomorrow. You’d best get some sleep.” And I was alone in the study, along with my suddenly jumbled brain and racing pulse.

 

&&&&&

 

My night had been restless for reasons having nothing to do with the lump on my head, so perhaps I was a trifle cross when both Lobelia and Sandyman made their appearance late the next morning. The deduction that I would soon need to be hunting up a new secretary had not escaped me. The fact that Gamgee had unaccountably disappeared at some time during the night of course had nothing to do with my foul mood, needless to mention.

Sandyman had, naturally enough, nothing to report from the Green Dragon, and I left the two lovebirds alone in the front parlor in order to go sulk in my study. That lasted just until the note, with my name scrawled across the front, reached the smial.

 

&&&&&

 

The message was unsigned, and the hand unfamiliar, but I had no doubts from whom it had come. “Meet me in the apple orchard tonight,” it read, “as soon as the moon rises. Jolly Cotton will meet us there too. You’re due your share, no matter what the others might think.”

It seemed forever until the sun finally sank behind the horizon. I had spent the day in prowling about my study, trying my best not to let on anything was up. Fortunately for my limited acting skills, my two associates were nauseatingly engrossed in each other, and when Lobelia asked to go a bit early, to do a bit of marketing she claimed, I waved her off without a second thought.

The night was chill but clear as I walked along the faint path that wandered over the hillside that rose behind Bag End and down into the small woods that grew between my land and that of the others. The trees smelled damp and sodden leaves squashed underfoot as I made my way to the orchard beyond, but the moon had risen round and pale and unobstructed by cloud. The hollow to which I was walking was where the Baggins, Gamgee and Cotton land all met, and the exact boundaries had always been deliberately left vague. There were plenty of apples to go around, for the trees had always been amazingly fertile, but by this time of season, they were mostly gone from the branches, and the windfall ones were underfoot, lending their winey fragrance to the nippy air.

No one was there when I arrived, and I stood, partially concealed to the side, trying to decide why I was here in the first place. If there really was dragon plunder buried in this peaceable orchard, surely it had lain here undisturbed for years and why should it be disturbed now? Certainly it wasn’t wealth I was looking for. I earned enough to live comfortably, despite Lobelia’s protestations, and I really couldn’t imagine what I would do with more. And I had no doubts that matters would become much more awkward between myself and my neighbors once it came out that I had become involved in this dispute.

It was as I was trying to make sense of this jumble of thoughts and emotions, my hands jammed down in my pockets and my jacket collar turned up against the chill, that I suddenly sensed, rather than heard, another presence next to me. Gamgee had slipped up next to me, as quietly as a cat, and stood beside me, looking out onto the old orchard glowing silver in the moonlight.

“Jolly thinks it was under that old tree on the corner. He was here that night too, even though he ain’t much older than me. That’s where I seem to remember it, as well,” he murmured quietly.

“So what’s your plan?” I asked, still disowning any involvement in it myself.

I caught his amused glance, as his face turned my way. “Don’t worry, Baggins, we’re still honorable sorts after all. All any of us want is our share, no more and no less. Way I see it, there’s five Cottons, three Gamgees, and yourself. We divide it nine ways, take our share, and put the rest back.”

“You know the others will find out; they always do.”

He shrugged nonchalantly, his face a contrast of dark shadow and silver light. “No matter. All I want is enough to get out of this place and stay out. Hobbiton has never suited me. There’s a whole world out there, and I want to see it all.”

“Wish I knew where to go,” I heard myself blurt out. “Since it doesn’t look like I’ll be hanging around here much longer myself.”

His smile broadened, and suddenly I was being held tightly against the nearest tree, both my hands pinned above my head against the rough bark, and being kissed a kiss that was as sweet and slow and seductive as midsummer honey.

That’s when I knew where I was going.


End file.
